


Mouth Like Heaven, Kisses Like Stars

by twilightstargazer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:52:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9632426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer
Summary: His eyebrows are knitted together in a slight frown, the kind he usually gets when he’s trying to work out a difficult problem. Finally, he meets her eyes again and says, almost hesitantly underneath his mask of bravado, “Well, I’m always here to lend a helping hand if you need it, princess.”Clarke actually chokes this time, and it feels like all the breath has been knocked out of her.-or, the time when everything goes downhill and bellamy just goes down.





	1. as the heavens set fire

**Author's Note:**

> i once said that if bellamy ever called clarke princess again on the show, i would write some smut so. here's me keeping that promise. also shout out to [av](http://aromanticspacemechanic.tumblr.com/) for the summary help. it's punny and i love it.
> 
> (unbetaed because i'm lazy)

“If you keep frowning like that, you’re going to get stress lines before you’re thirty.”

Clarke doesn’t even bother to glance over at Bellamy, who’s leaning against a tree and definitely not helping while she looks for the herb they came for.

“As if you’re one to talk,” she scoffs.

“I have a youthful glow,” he shoots back. “I’m going to continue looking twenty three even when I’m well into my forties.”

“If you live long enough to be forty,” she mutters under her breath.

There’s the sound of his foot hitting the undergrowth as he stands straight once more. “Clarke,” he says, the fond teasing cadence of his voice from before all but gone now.

“I know, I know. Stop talking about death so much.”

“You need to loosen up, princess.”

“I have no idea how to that.”

She can hear him shuffling around until he’s right behind her and she turns to look up at him, his overgrown fringe falling into his eyes like a sheepdog’s.

“Well,” he starts, “You can read a book, take a walk, try to knit. Maybe even join Harper for some beat time on the train dummy.” He pauses and then throws her a wicked smirk. “And there’s also sex of course.”

She doesn’t quite choke on nothing, but comes fairly close to it.

“Come again?”

“That’ll help loosen you up even more.”

“ _Bellamy_.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “It was just a suggestion.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not one I can take seriously,” she says mulishly, trying to keep her pout at bay, “I don’t exactly have a line of suitors waiting at my door.”

He’s silent for a moment, long enough that Clarke actually glances up at him to make sure he’s okay.

His eyebrows are knitted together in a slight frown, the kind he usually gets when he’s trying to work out a difficult problem. Finally, he meets her eyes again and says, almost hesitantly underneath his mask of bravado, “Well, I’m always here to lend a helping hand if you need it, princess.”

Clarke actually chokes this time, and it feels like all the breath has been knocked out of her.

“Really.”

“I’m here at your service,” he says, eyes dark, dropping to her mouth when she gnaws on her bottom lip. “Whatever you need.”

“You talk big game, Blake,” she says, albeit shakily as she neatly steps away, though not before her hand grazes against his lower stomach. There’s a muscle jumping in his jaw, and she has to bite back a smile, leaning against the hood of the rover.

Never one to be outdone, Bellamy saunters forward until he looms over her, an indolent smirk making itself known.

“Is that so?” he rumbles out, resting his hands on either side of her hips atop the rover, effectively caging her in.

Clarke lifts her chin, looking him dead on in the eye. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is?” she hums, lifting a hand to delicately stroke it over the pulse fluttering in his neck.

His own hand comes to trace her jaw, soft and delicate as if she was made of glass. She wants to scoff; Bellamy of all people should know that she’s not some porcelain doll to be guarded at all times. But then he tucks back an escaped curl, letting his fingers drift over her chapped lips, and a pang of longing hits her, so strong that she finds herself leaning into him.

“Maybe I should,” he murmurs, eyes hooded and dark, and then he’s leaning in to close the gap between them.

For all the teasing words between them, the first kiss is tentative.

It is tentative, and soft, and she can feel the silent question mark tacked on the end of it when he begins to pull back, nose bumping into hers.

Clarke pulls him back by the collar before he can get too far though, rolling up on her toes and pressing him close. He actually _groans_ when her hand slides into his hair, and the kiss turns heady, open mouthed and desperate.

There was a fire underneath her skin, burning and tingling, blazing even higher when he finally hauls her against him, her softness matching up with the hard planes of his chest. The arm that had snaked its way around her waist rises higher, pressing the boning of her corset into her skin, and she gasps out loud at the bite.

“Take it off,” she says, voice husky and raw when he traces over the lacing with shaky fingers.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, undoing the knot faster than she thought possible, hands dipping beneath her shirt before the corset it even hits the ground. They go immediately to her breasts, grabbing and squeezing through the worn fabric of her bra, and she fucking keens, thrusting her chest forward. His mouth slips onto her jaw, and he mutters a curse when his thumbs sneak into the cups to brush against her nipples.

“Off, off, off,” she chants under her breath, head thrown back in bliss while he buries his face in her neck, all scraping stubble and wet mouth.

“Later,” he promises hotly, tweaking her nipple one more time before his hand slides down the length of her torso, fingers dipping beneath the lip of her pants. “First, I wanna taste you.”

And, _god_ , if her panties weren’t wet before, that would’ve done it.

A low whine leaves her throat when she hears the metallic rasp of the zipper, and Bellamy huffs out a laugh against her neck, a hand sliding to her ass and giving it a good squeeze.

“Someone’s eager,” he murmurs, tracing distracting patterns down her stomach.

Her hips cant forward of their own accord. “Not eager,” she says, voice wobbling. “You’re just a tease.”

He tuts, pressing a whisper of a kiss to her jaw before pulling back. “Well I should fix that immediately then,” he says, fingers curling in the waistband of her pants and underwear, pulling them down ever so slowly as if he were unwrapping a present. It makes Clarke shudder, even more so when he finally sinks to his knees, all red lips and mussed hair, painting a pretty picture.

“Patience, princess,” he whispers, after she whines again, mouthing the crease where her hip meets her thigh, “I’ve got you.”

A breathy moan flows past her lips when she feels his breath ghost over her, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into her outer lips and making her tremble.

His eyes are molten when he glances up at her beneath his fan of lashes, sending a brand new wave of heat skittering down her spine. “This okay, right?” he asks, flicking his thumb slowly over the hood of her clit.

“Yeah,” she sighs, eyes fluttering shut at the annoyingly gentle pace he’s set, “So fucking good.” Her legs widen of their own accord, and he rearranges her so that one is thrown over his shoulder and the other is spread to the side. Her boots are still on, she realises, but he doesn’t let her think about it for more than a second, leaning in and sucking a mark on the inside of her thigh, and she can _feel_ her heartbeat pulsing in her body.

She’s two seconds away from being totally and completely wrecked, and he hasn’t even touched her in earnest as yet for fuck’s sake.

“What do you want, princess?” he asks, his voice reduced to a low gravel while he continues to rub her clit in firm, tight circles, chipping away at her sanity with each turn. “Fingers, mouth, both?”

“Ah, fuck, both,” she pants, already writhing in place atop the hood of the rover. She digs the heel of her foot in between his shoulder blades, trying to draw him closer. “Put your mouth on me, Bellamy. _Please_.”

“As you wish,” he says with a smirk that she’d normally itch to wipe off his face. Instead, it just makes her moan low in her throat, hips lifting up in an attempt to rock up into his his mouth.

She’s _dripping_ when he finally licks into her, a broad swipe of his tongue all the way up her slit, and her hands immediately go to his hair, anchoring him there. Bellamy groans, a low, obscene noise from the back of his throat when she pulls, and it sends a new wave of wetness through her, her cunt tightening around nothing.

“Fuck,” he grunts, before his hands land on her ass with a resounding smack. She startles at the contact at first, but then he’s kneading into her flesh, soft sensual strokes that go in time with his tongue, and she finds herself whimpering, hips jerking up in search of friction.

He takes pity on her at last, switching from long, flat licks, to closing his lips around her clit and sucking while a solitary finger teases the entrance of her cunt before slowly pushing in.

“Shit,” she breathes, muscles clamping down on it almost immediately, and he sentiments are echoed by Bellamy as he pulls away, rearranging himself more comfortably on the rough forest floor.

His mouth and chin are wet, and he’s breathing heavily as he looks up at her through hooded eyes, finger still massaging her inner walls. Clarke’s no better off, spread out like his own personal feast, skin stained pink with pleasure, sweat gathering all over.

“Like that, princess?” he asks with a smirking, slowly pumping it in and out.

She can only nod, especially when he takes it upon himself to rub that soft patch of nerves that she can never reach on her own, making her spasm.

“Want another one?” he asks, and he doesn’t even wait until she’s finished nodding, slipping another finger in with ease, pumping them with renewed vigour.

“Oh _god_ , Bellamy,” she cries, her legs almost clamping shut around his fingers, only to be stopped by his free hand.

“Gotta give me some room to work here, princess,” he says, wicked mouth curled up in a smirk. “Don’t worry, next time you can run show.”

“I’m- _ah-_ I’m holding you to that,” she says, voice hitching as he picks up the pace, mouth once more latching onto her clit.

He’s all out teasing her now, long, careful swipes of his tongue, alternating between flicking her clit and sucking on it. Clarke feels like an elastic band pulled taut, that fire licking up her insides burning brighter and higher, and it’s only a matter of time before she snaps, especially if Bellamy continues like that, carefully memorising and bookmarking each of her reactions.

When he adds another finger, her mind goes white, and she’s pretty sure she keens at the sudden feeling of fullness- a sweet, stinging fullness that has her seeing galaxies in her back of her eyelids and gasping out his name as she slid further to the edge, just waiting for that final push that’ll take her there.

“I know, princess, I know,” he croons, grinding his thumb into her clit, “I know what you need. But you’re not going to come yet, not until I’ve properly tasted you.”

He pulls his fingers out with an embarrassingly wet sound and she only gets half a whine out before he fucks her open with his tongue.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” she moans, hands slipping from his hair to grasp at his shoulders as she slumps over him, body wound tight. It’s only his hand, a bruising force against her hip, pinning her in place, that stops her from falling off the rover completely. “ _God, Bellamy_.”

It’s ten times rougher than he was with his fingers, and he makes a hungry sound against her cunt when she cries out, voice harsh and panting in the open forest. He’s so rough and so good to her, all wet mouth and unrelenting fingers, that she begins to come almost immediately.

Clarke doesn’t scream, not quite, but she does black out for a moment of complete bliss, pleasure humming in her veins, and when she comes to, Bellamy is still lapping at her, cleaning her up with little kitten licks until she grabs him by the collar of his jacket, pulling him up.

He goes willingly, groaning into her mouth when she licks the taste of her cunt off his teeth, a little sloppy and messy, but her limbs are still shaky from the mind blowing orgasm, so she can’t be blamed, not really.

“You are far too good at that,” she breathes, once they pull back for air. Her hands have returned to his hair, carding through it and trying to work out the knots that she put there in all her twisting and pulling.

He flashes her that lopsided smile, the one she loves so much, and says, “I’m taking that as a compliment,” before leaning back into kiss her again.

It starts off chaste, even though she can feel him hard and hot against her hip, but then Clarke opens her mouth underneath him, and Bellamy groans low in his throat, licking into her. She can still taste the tang and salt of herself on his tongue, and she just groans again, deepening the kiss as her hand drifts down to grasp his belt.

Their interrupted by the harsh crackle of static from the radio before they can get any further however, and they both pull back, breathing harshly.

“We should probably be getting back to camp,” he says regrettably, dropping his hands from her waist.

She makes a sound of displeasure, twisting her face. “Probably,” she sighs, sliding off the rover and into his space. She’s still half naked, pants in a crumpled, sad heap a couple paces away, but Bellamy keeps his eyes on her face.

“Raincheck?” she offers, palming him through his cargo pants and throwing a cheeky grin over her shoulder as she steps away to get the rest of her clothes.

He comes up behind her when she bends down to pull up her pants and grinds into the curve of her ass, both of them groaning with it. “Definitely,” he growls, nipping her earlobe before stepping away.

By the time she’s got her pants on and in place, Bellamy is already making his way back to the driver’s seat, fucking _whistling_ as he goes, and she can’t help but smile as she lets her eyes trail up and down his figure.

Raincheck indeed.

 


	2. love me slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which is why when she enters their room late one evening and finds him pacing back and forth, looking seconds away from tearing out his own hair, Clarke can’t help but ask,
> 
> “So how about that rain check?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i caved and continued because 403 wrecked me in the best way. apparently i cope with bellarke feels by writing bellarke smut.

In all honesty, Clarke expects that day out in the field to be this perfect little blip in her life. Bellamy Blake hoisted her up and ate her out on the hood of the rover until she screamed his name and forgot her own in the process. That’s a life achievement right there, leaving her with nothing but a lifetime of good, fond memories.

She doesn’t really expect anything to come out of it- she was stressed, he wanted to help, and he _definitely_ knew what he was doing- especially because he continued to act aggressively normal, as though he hasn’t already been three fingers deep in her. Nothing changed. Honestly, if he didn’t leave bruises on the soft skin of her inner thighs, Clarke would have thought she imagined the whole thing.

So she follows his lead and acts normal right back, which would have been easy, except she can’t stop thinking about it.

When he bites into an apple, tongue flicking out to lick the juice that smears across his mouth, she remembers the feel of that same tongue licking up her slit. When he drums his fingers against the desk, distracted, she relives having them touch her, caress her, and she has to leave the room to catch herself.

It’s safe to say that it’s driving her a little stir crazy.

Which is why when she enters their room late one evening and finds him pacing back and forth, looking seconds away from tearing out his own hair, Clarke can’t help but ask,

“So how about that rain check?”

He falters mid step, shoulders tensing beneath his jacket.

“What?”

She doesn’t mean for words to slip out, but they did and now it’s hovering out there, so she pulls the door shut, the lock clicking into place with a soft snick, and she walks into the room. The sound of her boots bounce of the wall, and she doesn’t stop until she’s almost toe to toe with him.

“Last week,” she says evenly, watching the muscle jump in his jaw and distinctly remembering the feel of it against her mouth. “You helped me to _loosen up._ I didn’t get to return the favour.”

“You don’t need to return the favour.”

“Bellamy,” she huffs, feeling a prickle of annoyance underneath her skin, “You’re obviously stressed. Just let me help you take a load off.”

“Aren’t we punny,” he says, flat, and Clarke just flashes a toothy grin up at him before pushing him back to sit on the couch, lowering to her knees.

“I have a shift in twenty,” he warns, but makes no move to push her away. His knuckles go bone white with the force that he’s gripping the cushions with, and she brushes her fingers over them as she makes her way down his body.

Clarke grins up at him, and there’s the sudden rasp of the zipper as she undoes his fly. “Guess we better be quick then,” she says, ignoring his sharp intake of breath when she palms him through his briefs.

He’s still slightly soft in her hands, but she gives him an encouraging squeeze, feeling him grow harder as the seconds tick by.

“Fuck,” he breathes, head tipped back and an arm thrown over his eyes, “Fuck, babe.”

She just leans forward to nuzzle his hipbone, and can feel him twitch in her hands when her hair brushes against his lower stomach. “Lift up a bit for me, yeah?” she asks, looking at him from beneath her lashes, “I wanna get my mouth on you.”

Bellamy just moans and does with she asks, hips flexing up long enough for her to shove his pants down to his thighs.

His cock is gorgeous, long and thick and blushing a pretty red, and Clarke shifts on her knees, feeling herself getting aroused by the mere sight of it. She looks up, meeting his gaze, eyes dark and heavy and filled with want, and she pulls her bottom lip in her mouth as she teases him with shallow strokes.

“God, Clarke,” he says on a breath, “You’re killing me here, princess.”

“Patience, Bellamy,” she tells him, licking at her hand. She wraps it around him firmer this time, jacking him in earnest, “I got you.”

The echo of his words from last week don’t go unnoticed, and his lips quirk up into halfway smirk.

“Alright then,” he says, leaning back more fulling against the couch. He would be the picture of relaxation if not for the tightness in his jaw, and the way the tendons in his neck popped. “Whatever the hell you want, princess.”

It’s hard to stick to her gameplan- to tease him and work him up just as torturously slow as he did when he’s looking down at her like that, pupils blown wide, and jaw hanging open just a bit as he pants. He swears, voice gravelly and low, when her thumb brushes across the tip, smearing precum down his shaft, and it skitters down her spine, making her desperately wish that she had something to grind down on at the moment.

“Fuck, princess,” he murmurs when she draws back her hand, licking at her fingers. The taste of him lingers, dark and earthy, and she moans with it.

She brings back her fingers, now slicked with spit, and wraps them around his base while her head lowers, tongue flicking out at him, before she finally obliges and opens her mouth.

His hips jerk up at the first soft suck, and she hears a muffled curse from above, making her muscles quiver.

She keeps a lazy, even pace, twisting and jacking her hand along the rest of his length while just paying attention to the tip with her mouth. Underneath her palm, she can feel the muscles of his thigh tense and twitch.

“You’re fucking perfect, babe,” he growls, “Jesus, look at you.”

Each bit of praise goes straight to her cunt, and she hums around him, feeling his hand drop to tangle in her hair. Blunt nails scritch at her scalp and she moans with it, taking him deeper. She loves the feel of his cock in her mouth, all hot and heavy on her tongue, loves how she can reduce Bellamy to nothing but fucking _filthy_ praises dropping from his lips and a swipe of pink high on his cheeks.

He actually _whines_ when she pulls off him, and the hand in her hair tightens. The sweet sting of it has a high pitched keen being wrenched out of her throat, and she clenches down on nothing, underwear completely soaked, and she flushes.

“Easy,” she says, her voice nothing more than a husky rasp. She let’s her eyes rake over him, taking in the rapid up-down of his chest as he pants, the delectable flush that stains his bronzed skin, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, causing his hair to stick to his temples. He’s beautiful, and for a moment she contemplates drawing him like this.

Bellamy huffs, “Fucking tease,” he says, shooting her a dirty look, but it is belied by the slight curve of his mouth.

She retaliates by licking a broad swipe up his cock, from base to tip, while her free hand fondles his balls, and his jaw clicks shut.

“What was that?” she asks coyly, smirking at him. He just tugs on her hair again, making her moan out loud and pull at him, feeling the hot twitch of his dick in her palm at the sound.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, princess,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut.

“But what a way to go, am I right?” she teases, before taking him back into her mouth with a loud slurp that has his muscles going tense.

“God, yes,” he breathes, and his hands drop from her hair to trace her lips. “Open your mouth a bit more for me, huh? Please princess?”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it, if she’s being honest, and she does what he asks, taking him as deep as possible, and he barks out, “Fuck,” dragging out the syllables when she sucks him a bit harder, slow and long.

“Yeah, just like that,” he says, voice shot. His hand remains cupping her jaw, thumb brushing against the stretch of her lips. “Just like that, princess. Fucking _love_ that pretty mouth of yours.”

Clarke is pretty sure she’s glowing from the praise, and the knowing glint in his eyes tells her that he hasn’t missed her reactions to his words either. She hasn’t given much head in her lifetime, but there’s just something about doing it with Bellamy, watching her with dark eyes and feeling the gravel of his voice against her skin as he begs her for more, struggling not to thrust up into her mouth, that gets her _hot_.

Her head dips a bit too low, and his cock bumps into the back of her throat. For one brief moment her throat tightens, and she almost freezes, before he makes this _sound-_ something like a cross between a gasp and groan- that she’s never heard before.

She does it again, taking care to fight against her gag reflex and his hand creeps back into her hair, guiding her movements.

Bellamy seems to be reduced to a nonsensical garble; just a steady stream of _‘fuck yeah’s_ and _‘just like that babe’_ and _‘please princess’_ breathing past his lips and god _damn_ if that wasn’t doing something to her.

They keep going like this, and she watches as the mask of control slowly begins to slip off his face until he makes another one of those sounds in the back of his throat. “Fuck, Clarke, _please_ ,” he gasps out, his grip on her hair painfully tight, causing her eyes to water.

She just hollows her cheek, sucking harder, and then he’s coming with something akin to a shout that almost sounds like her name as she laps it up, making sure to lick him clean.

His hands drag her off before she’s finished though, and she mewls in disappointment until his mouth is on hers, kissing her hard and messy as he slumps further down against the couch so she can perch on his lap, licking the bitter taste of himself off her tongue.

“Fucking amazing,” he tells her when he pulls back, panting, and Clarke can barely pay attention to him now that there’s nothing to distract her from the all consuming ache between her legs. Her hips grind down on him of their own accord.

“Fuck,” he breathes, when she does it again, desperate, and his eyes light up, “You wanna get off, don’t you princess?”

Her reply is just a frantic nod, eyes screwed shut and a whine high in her throat as she seeks out friction. Bellamy bites down bluntly on the curve of her shoulder, through the thin material of her Henley, and she cries out, jerking against him.

“I need to hear you say it, babe,” he tells her, voice dark and low, sending a thrill of _something_ through her. His hands land hard on her hips, stilling her, his grip mean. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

For a brief second she considers asking to fuck him, just pushing him against the back of the couch and riding him, hard and fast. But then she leans back a little bit, feels him softening against her ass, and discards the idea. She needs to get off _now_ , before she goes crazy with it.

“I want you to get me off,” she whimpers, struggling in his hold. There’s no chance of breaking it, no chance of moving her hips, and she wants to cry out in frustration. “I need your hands or something just- fuck, _please_ , Bellamy.”

He chuckles into her neck, pressing a dry kiss to the pulse fluttering there, before he undoes the snap of her jeans, wriggling a hand inside her underwear and then swearing.

“Fuck babe, you’re dripping,” he says delightedly, sweeping his fingers through her folds and getting them nice and wet, “Is all this from sucking my cock, princess?”

“Y-yeah,” she stammers, head dropping on to his shoulders as he continues to stroke her, nice and firm.

His nose nudges the underside of her jaw. “That’s hot,” he smirks, sliding two fingers in for her to clench down on, easy. Clarke moans with it, and his other hand keeps pressing down on her hipbone, stopping her from bucking up into it. “That’s really fucking hot. Come on, babe, let’s get you what you need, yeah?”

He sets a fast and unrelenting pace straight out of the gate, fingers crooking and rubbing up inside her on every thrust and she whimpers with each one. She’s already close, had been since she was still sucking his dick, and with Bellamy alternating between murmuring all sorts of things in her ear and pressing wet, open mouthed kisses along her jaw, all she really needs to do is drop her own hand to her clit, rubbing tight little circles over it, before she flying apart, moaning loudly into his shoulder.

When she comes back down, his fingers are still inside her, but he’s petting up and down her spine as she sags against him, the old couch creaking with their weight.

Bellamy presses a kiss to her temple as he slides his fingers out, before sticking them in his mouth to clean them off. A breathy mewl slips past her lips, and Clarke turns, pressing her face into his neck, leaving her hand curled into a loose fist above his heart, hammering against his sternum.

“I am so late for my guard shift,” he says after a moment of silence, and she can’t help but giggle against his neck.

“Totally worth it though,” she says slyly, and it’s his turn to bark out a laugh. He shifts underneath her suddenly, and then she’s being deposited against the lumpy couch. She makes a sound of displeasure when he begins to get up, clutching at his shoulders.

He wins the battle against her grabby hands, which is a given considering her limbs are still loose and sated, and steps back, just watching her with a small smile. She can imagine what he sees; Clarke, rosy and flushed from her orgasm, spread out on the couch with her hair in complete disarray thanks to his wandering hands from before.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, sucking on it, while she regards him herself, all tall imposing stature and broad width.

After a beat he shakes his head, that same little smile still intact as he says, “Get some rest, princess. I’ll see you later,” before walking out of the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hit me up in my trashcan](http://hiddenpolkadots.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> there's a good chance i might continue this but who knows. come needle me about it on [tumblr](http://hiddenpolkadots.tumblr.com/).


End file.
